


Cuddle Bugs

by MirrorMystic



Series: Where The Lines Overlap [7]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Comedy, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Call me over / and show me how...Kana had no reason to be so nervous. It was just her first time seeing Futaba IRL in years. It's not like it was adate.





	Cuddle Bugs

**Author's Note:**

> _Call me over_   
>  _And show me how_   
>  _You got so far_   
>  _Never making a single sound..._
> 
> In which Kana meets the family, Akira and Ryuji plan a birthday gift, and Futaba discovers that maybe the _real_ treasure was the friends she made along the way. I hope you all enjoy the read. ^^
> 
> EDIT: Oh, and for anyone curious as to my visual headcanon for Kana- you know Otako, from Oshiete! Galko-chan? Imagine her, with blue eyes and fluffier hair, and that's Kana!

~*~  
  
Kana had dreamt of this moment for years.  
  
Not… literally, of course. She’d be worried if she had any actual dreams of her best friend confessing to her. But she daydreamed about this moment all the time- when they were lying in bed, texting, or when they were screensharing the livestream of an anime season premiere, or when their characters were standing around in town, waiting for Duty Finder to pop.  
  
Someday, Futaba would look her in the eyes, and nothing else would matter- the whole world would become just the two of them, surrounded by pink and flower petals and bubbles, the whole shoujo schtick.  
  
Because, y’know, if Kana couldn’t have a fairy tale first romance, she’d certainly settle for one out of a manga.  
  
She could see it now:  
  
They’d be in the park, watching the sunset, and the whole sky would be the color of Futaba’s hair. Futaba would look at her, and smile, and shake her head.  
  
“How could I have been so blind?” She’d ask. “...You’ve been here all along.”  
  
And Futaba would reach out, and brush her hand against her cheek. Kana’s heart would flutter in her chest, and she’d sniffle, and say:  
  
“But, Futaba…” Kana would say, fighting back tears. “...I would have been happy just… supporting you…”  
  
“You deserve so much more than that,” Futaba would whisper, and pull her in close…  
  
And then Kana would stare into those stunning violet eyes, and they _wouldn't_ bonk their foreheads or their glasses together (that was important), and Futaba would say-  
  
“Yongen-jaya.”  
  
What?  
  
“Now arriving: Yongen-jaya. Please, watch your step.”  
  
Kana jumped, startled, as the train doors opened and banished her fantasy with a hiss of steam. She clutched her overnight to her chest, anxiety fluttering in her heart. She emerged onto the platform, half-carried by the swell of bodies around her. Then, within moments, as if whisked away by some sorcery, the crowd vanished, dispersing onto Yongen-jaya’s narrow streets, leaving Kana alone in the sleepy Tokyo suburbs.  
  
Kana pulled out her phone and keyed in Futaba’s address- not even five minutes away by foot.  
  
Was this what it was like in the big city? She could certainly get used to everything being within walking distance- out in the country, you weren’t going anywhere unless you had a car. Then again, that might also have been why she spent so much time online.  
  
Kana started walking, gazing up at the street signs and storefronts as she strolled by in the afternoon sun.  
  
Grocery store. Thrift shop. Doctor’s office.  
  
Cafe Leblanc. Which meant, right down the street…  
  
There it was, spelled out on a nameplate by the door. The Sakura household.  
  
Kana swallowed hard, and clutched her bag to her chest.  
  
Really, she didn’t know why she was so nervous. It was just a sleepover. Just a girl thing.  
  
It was only her first time seeing Futaba in person after several years apart.  
  
It’s not like it was a _date_.  
  
Kana nudged her glasses up on her nose. She took a deep breath, and reached for the bell.  
  
~*~  
  
Akira’s and Ryuji’s phones both chimed at the same time. Draped as he was over Akira’s lap, thus pinning Akira’s phone to his hip, Ryuji was obliged to check his.  
  
It was a photo of Ann sitting before the most enormous parfait Ryuji had ever seen, gazing up at the mountain of fruit and whipped cream with stars in her eyes. Beside her, Shiho was giggling, taking a spoonful of her own, significantly smaller parfait, one that was presumably meant for humans and not dessert fiends. In the foreground, Makoto was regarding the camera with a smug, knowing smile.  
  
_Your move, fellas_ , the banner read.  
  
For such a cute photo, Ryuji had to fight the urge not to hurl his phone across the room.  
  
“Damn it!” Ryuji blurted out. “That’s the parfait place _I_ wanted to take her to! How did they know about that place?! Argh, I bet _Shiho_ stole my idea, that- that idea-stealer!”  
  
“Or, y’know, the internet is a thing,” Akira said flatly.  
  
“Now where are _we_ supposed to take Ann for her birthday week?!” Ryuji complained. “...Man… Makoto and Shiho are kicking our asses this year! Again! We gotta win one, at least once!”  
  
“I dunno,” Akira shrugged. “We got pretty close last year, with that trip to the petting zoo.”  
  
“Yeah, but then Makoto and Shiho brought her to that make-your-own-sundae bar,” Ryuji grumbled. “Those jerks. Spoiling Ann rotten.”  
  
“Yeah, ‘cuz only _we’re_ allowed to do that,” Akira rolled his eyes.  
  
“Uh, yeah! Exactly!”  
  
The doorbell chimed, and they looked up.  
  
“Boys?” Sojiro’s voice drifted in from the kitchen, framed by the thunk of the knife against the cutting board. “Could one of you get the door, please?”  
  
“Got it!” Akira called out. He clapped Ryuji on the shoulder. “Hey, get the door?”  
  
“Why do I gotta do it?”  
  
“Because it’s my day off.”  
  
“It’s my day off, too! We work together, you-”  
  
The doorbell chimed again. Sojiro sighed.  
  
“ _Boys-_ ”  
  
“Alright, alright!” Ryuji relented, making for the door.  
  
~*~  
  
Kana squeaked in surprise when she saw who answered the door.  
  
He was blonde. A foreigner? No, a delinquent- a bleach-blonde beast who towered over her, his sculpted physique barely contained by his tank top. Kana stared up at him, feeling the growing, dreadful certainty that she had the wrong house.  
  
His bleached hair… his broad shoulders… his muscles… his eyes…  
  
There could be no doubt about it.  
  
This man was a killer.  
  
At least, until he gave her a warm, if quizzical look.  
  
“Uh… can I help you?”  
  
The two of them jumped at the sound of a sharp bang inside the house, like a gunshot- or maybe just a door thrown open so violently it slammed against the opposite wall. And, following the bang, a voice, shrieking:  
  
“THE TRAIN!!!”  
  
And just as Kana realized she _knew_ that voice, a familiar redheaded comet dove down the hall and smashed the bleach-blonde punk aside. Futaba stood in the doorway, panting, her eyes frantic.  
  
“Kana I’m so sorry!” Futaba babbled. “I was coding and I got in the zone and then you got here and your hair looks nice!”  
  
“...Thank you?”  
  
“You’re _here_ ,” Futaba said, awed, breathless. She reached forward and poked Kana in the forehead, pulling back and studying her fingertip. “...You’re real.”  
  
Kana nodded, smiling, her eyes pricking with tears. “...Yeah.”  
  
And before she knew it, Futaba pulled Kana into the warmest hug she’d ever had. They held each other, laughing, crying, neither of them could tell. Kana looped her arms around Futaba’s waist, trailing her hands through Futaba’s impressively long hair, while Futaba babbled into the crook of Kana’s throat, murmuring “you’re real” like Kana would just disappear into smoke the moment she stopped.  
  
Akira came up to the door, investigating the commotion. What he found was a baffled Ryuji and two teenagers hugging it out like the season finale of a primetime TV drama.  
  
“Um,” Akira blinked.  
  
“Dude,” Ryuji whispered. “...this is really gay.”  
  
“Like we can talk,” Akira chided.  
  
“Couch!” Futaba blurted out. Kana missed her the instant she pulled her arms away from her neck. Futaba whirled around, her whole body alight with a manic energy, shoving Akira and Ryuji back towards the living room. “Couch, couch, couch, couch, couch! Kana, come inside! If we’re gonna do this, we have to do this right!”  
  
~*~  
  
Moments later, the Sakura household was fully assembled. Akira and Ryuji were draped on the couch, at Futaba’s insistence; Sojiro stood in the threshold to the kitchen, keeping one eye on the stove; and Kana stood before them, feeling the weight of their eyes upon her.  
  
Kana swallowed hard. She opened her mouth, but no sound would come out.  
  
“Listen up, losers!” Futaba blurted out, to Kana’s relief. “I want to make this official. This here’s Kana…” Futaba smiled. “...my player two.”  
  
“Ga-” Ryuji began, only for Akira to thump him on the head.  
  
“I’m Kana Magario,” Kana finally managed, bowing deeply at the waist so they wouldn’t see her blush. “It’s an honor to meet you all. While I am in Tokyo, I will be in your care. Please, take care of me.”  
  
“Welcome to our home,” Sojiro said. He returned Kana’s bow, his arms straight at his sides. The gesture seemed jarringly formal for Sojiro, especially since he was still wearing his apron.  
  
“I’m Sojiro Sakura,” Sojiro intoned. Apparently even he thought the moment was getting too heavy, since he grinned. “...These two chuckleheads can introduce themselves.”  
  
“I’m Akira Kurusu,” Akira nodded politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
“Yo,” Ryuji waved lazily. “Call me Ryuji.”  
  
“Do it right!” Futaba hissed, stamping her foot for emphasis.  
  
“Alright, alright,” Ryuji cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “I’m Ryuji Sakamoto. It’s nice to meet you.” Ryuji’s eyes flicked to Futaba. “...Hey, since when have you been this sentimental?”  
  
“Hey,” Akira chided. “She’s trying to make it special.”  
  
“I’d never get _this_ sappy,” Ryuji shrugged. He caught Futaba’s eyes. She stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
Kana smiled, amused. “...Your… roommates?” She wondered.  
  
Futaba rolled her eyes. “My _brothers_.”  
  
There was a squeak. Ryuji had gone stiff, a hand clutching his chest.  
  
“F-Futaba, you-” Ryuji swallowed hard, his eyes wet. “...E-Excuse me…”  
  
Ryuji abruptly stood up and left the room, Kana staring after him as he went.  
  
“Is he okay? W-Was it something I said…?”  
  
“Futaba just casually called him her brother,” Akira shrugged, smiling. “He’s probably gonna go call his mom.”  
  
~*~  
  
Kana’s first night in Tokyo was going swimmingly. She’d met Futaba’s family, and now, she was about to have her first family dinner with the Sakuras. Two firsts, though maybe not quite as exciting as the thought of a first kiss- or the first that Ryuji was so touched by.  
  
“For your information,” Ryuji insisted blithely across the table, “I didn’t _call_ my mom. I texted her.”  
  
“You’re still a big softie,” Futaba teased. “You’re a big, soft boy.”  
  
“Nuh-uh! D’you see these guns?” Ryuji proudly patted a bicep. “Look at me, I’m hardcore!”  
  
“Soft boy! Soft boy! Soft boy!”  
  
“Quit pounding on the table,” Sojiro chided from the kitchen. “We have a guest. Oh, and, uh, Kana? Do you like curry?”  
  
“It’s my favorite, sir,” Kana smiled.  
  
“I’m glad to hear it,” Sojiro grinned. “I do hope you enjoy mine. ...I admit, I, uh… I can’t cook very much else.”  
  
“Akira still makes the best curry,” Futaba grinned.  
  
“Says the most biased girl in the world,” Akira said. He held his hand, palm down, over Futaba’s head. She leaned up into the touch.  
  
“Hey, bug,” Akira said warmly.  
  
“I’m a bug!” Futaba squeaked.  
  
Akira smiled with the utmost fondness, smoothing Futaba’s hair against her scalp.  
  
Kana flinched at the sight. A flicker of… _something_ shivered through her body and coiled in her gut, pricking her heart like a fishhook. Akira reached in front of her, setting down a plate and some silverware. While Akira set the table, Kana squirmed, pulling out her phone.  
  
**_Kana_** _: He’s handsome._  
  
Kana met Futaba’s eyes. Futaba slipped her phone out and held it under the table, typing her response.  
  
**_Futaba_** _: who?_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: Your brother._ _  
_**_Futaba_** _: not when his roots are showing, he ain’t_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: No, your other brother._ _  
_**_Kana_** _: The one you always talk about._ _  
_**_Futaba_** _: oh._ _  
_**_Kana_** _: There’s something about his eyes…_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: His voice, too_ _  
_**_Futaba_** _: yeah…_ _  
_**_Futaba_** _: he’s great._ _  
_  
“No texting at the table,” Sojiro said. He set a plate down in front of her, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, a small porcelain bowl of rice.  
  
Kana watched, somber, as Futaba took the bowl in her hands without a word. She crossed the room and placed it reverently on a counter by the door, beside a #1 Mom coffee mug and a framed portrait.  
  
“Wakaba Isshiki,” Sojiro said gently. “Futaba’s mother.”  
  
Kana nodded. “Your wife?”  
  
Sojiro smiled, but it was a pained smile. “No. It’s… complicated.”  
  
Futaba turned on her heel and clambered back into her seat, forcing a cheerful demeanor in the solemn quiet.  
  
“I’m glad, Kana,” Futaba smiled, but her voice was cracking. “You got to meet the whole family.”  
  
Kana took a ragged breath. She studied the other faces around the table. Sojiro, pensive, stroking his beard; Akira, inscrutable, his glasses catching the light; Ryuji, choked up, looking for all the world like he was about to cry.  
  
And then there was Futaba, looking at her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  
  
Kana reached out and touched Futaba’s hand.  
  
“She’s beautiful,” Kana said softly.  
  
Futaba grinned. “...Don’t make it weird.”  
  
“No, I mean, you look a lot like her,” Kana said quickly.  
  
“That’s- ow!” Ryuji grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.  
  
The somber quiet dissolved, melting into warm, teasing laughter, and Ryuji glowering at Akira with faux-outrage. Sojiro invited them all to dig in, and Kana did, with gusto- as it turned out, while Sojiro might not be the most versatile cook, he certainly made a fine pot of curry.  
  
There was something about Futaba, here, at a dinner table, cackling at bad puns and cracking jokes at her brothers’ expense, that made it so Kana just couldn’t look away. She was so… bright. So warm. So… _happy_. What happened to the shut-in with bags under her eyes, who lined her door with police tape and ‘keep out’ signs, her room overflowing with stacked cups of instant ramen?  
  
Who was the one who banished Futaba’s loneliness?  
  
And why, Kana thought, hadn’t it been _her_?  
  
~*~  
  
Ryuji did the dishes, muttering something about how he still had to wash dishes on his day off. Sojiro stepped out for a cigarette, while Kana and Futaba were off doing their own thing, leaving Akira in the living room, crouched by a shelf of DVDs, his finger tracing a path down the row of cases.  
  
“Dude,” Ryuji’s voice drifted in from the kitchen, “how about a movie?”  
  
“We go to the movies with Ann all the time,” Akira shrugged. “It won’t be special.”  
  
“Um, it’ll be special because _we’re_ with her.”  
  
“Pfft. Soft boy.”  
  
“Shuddup!”  
  
Ryuji emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands, just as Sojiro came back inside from his smoke break.  
  
“What are we watching?” Sojiro asked, sinking into his armchair.  
  
Akira held up a pair of DVDs.  
  
“What do you think? Giant monsters, giant robots, _or_ …” He held up a third. “Giant monsters _fighting_ giant robots.”  
  
“I know _my_ pick,” Ryuji flopped down onto the couch.  
  
“Why don’t you see if the girls would like to join us?” Sojiro asked.  
  
“Let’s not bug ‘em, Dad,” Akira said lightly. “They’re on a date.”  
  
~*~  
  
It wasn’t a date.  
  
Kana simply met Futaba’s family, had dinner with them, and was now in Futaba’s room.  
  
That thought, and all the flustered implications it carried, smashed into Kana like a tidal wave, sweeping away the lurking swell of her teenage insecurity. She was here. She made it all the way to Futaba’s room. She wondered if she was the first person to ever make it this far, into Futaba’s inner sanctuary. Kana hoped she was.  
  
“Well, this is where the magic happens,” Futaba said, cringing in a way that made Kana wonder if she’d rehearsed this.  
  
“These are my Featherman figures,” Futaba said, gesturing to her desk where five costumed heroes posed together. “They’re doing the Ginyu force right now, but next week’s gonna be Jojo.”  
  
“Those are my stars,” Futaba said, pointing at her dark curtain dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars. “They didn’t come with the curtain, so I had to stick ‘em on.”  
  
“This is my fridge,” Futaba said, patting the squat, waist-high fridge beside her computer desk. “I used to keep energy drinks in there, but now I go with canned iced coffee because it drives my dad nuts.”  
  
“And _this_ …” Futaba spun the back of her chair around and hopped on. “...is my computer chair. _I’m_ the only one who sits on my computer chair.” Futaba grinned. “Kana, _you_ get to sit on Totoro.”  
  
Kana looked at the comically oversized plush chair right next to Futaba’s bed, lovingly crafted in the guise of a beloved, friendly, neighborhood nature spirit. She sank into the plush, giggling as she went.  
  
“He’s so soft,” Kana smiled.  
  
“Yeah,” Futaba grinned fondly. “I can’t sit on him while I’m gaming, though. Not enough back support.”  
  
Futaba blinked. She stared blankly ahead for a moment, as if she’d run out of script.  
  
“I, um. I don’t do a lot of hanging out, one on one, in person, so uh… what should we do next?”  
  
“We don’t have to do anything,” Kana said. “We could just… be together.”  
  
Kana winced. _That_ didn’t sound desperate, no sir. That wince became a squeak of surprise when Futaba’s weight and warmth suddenly plopped down right next to her.  
  
“Sorry! Can I sit with you?”  
  
“What? Yes!” Kana squirmed.  
  
“This is kinda cool, y’know,” Futaba babbled, talking just to make use of her nervous energy- or maybe Kana was just imagining things. “Your voice sounds so much clearer than through headphones. I know we talk, like, all the time, but this is cool. You’re so… close.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kana breathed.  
  
Truthfully, Kana could have just about spent forever with Futaba, laying there on Totoro’s belly and drinking in the intoxicating closeness. Kana mustered her courage and took Futaba’s hand, gasping when Futaba laced their fingers together.  
  
“...’taba…” Kana squeaked.  
  
Futaba smiled at her- not the impish grin she got when staring down firewalls and reams of code, but a subtler, gentler, warmer smile, still bearing a hint of that playful demeanor.  
  
“You’re cute,” Futaba teased.  
  
Steam was practically coming out of Kana’s ears. “S-Stop…”  
  
They lay there, facing each other, their knees touching, their fingers intertwined. It was the single most romantic moment Kana had ever experienced in her life, although, admittedly, it didn’t have too much competition. Kana didn’t know what to say- she didn’t know if she could say anything, what with her heart catching in her throat.  
  
“This is nice,” Kana whispered.  
  
“Isn’t it?” Futaba grinned, nuzzling into Totoro’s fur. “My brother got him for me.”  
  
The moment shattered. The ugly thoughts reared its head, like a wave breaking upon the shore, and all the jealousy and insecurity churned in Kana’s gut.  
  
As if the moment wasn’t already ruined, Futaba sat up abruptly, breaking her hands away from Kana’s- and part of Kana, deep down, hated how badly and how immediately she missed the feeling, as Futaba pulled away.  
  
“Bathroom!” Futaba announced, and scurried off.  
  
Kana sat up and sighed, glancing over her shoulder. Totoro gave her a commiserating look, before she got to her feet and wandered outside.  
  
~*~  
  
“Okay, realtalk?” Ryuji began, his arm casually draped around Akira’s shoulder. “Mecha are way cooler than kaiju.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Akira shrugged, leaning into Ryuji’s chest. “You’re allowed to be wrong.”  
  
“Dude, mecha have, like, lasers and missiles and shit!”  
  
“Yeah, and kaiju have _magic_!”  
  
“Oh, so you’re gonna tell me, this giant squid-looking motherfucker’s gonna still be standing after you launch a frickin’ nuke into its mouth-”  
  
“Uh, yeah, because it’ll do some magic shit and eat that bomb for breakfast.”  
  
“Boys, boys,” Sojiro said peaceably. “I see your points. But I raise you: what if that giant mecha had an equally giant sword?”  
  
Akira and Ryuji glanced at each other.  
  
“...Okay, yeah, that’s pretty rad,” Akira admitted, while Ryuji snickered beside him.  
  
“You kids today and all this CGI,” Sojiro smiled, watching a mecha on-screen punch a giant squid monster into the side of a skyscraper. “You know, back in my day, there had to be a guy sweatin’ it out in a rubber suit, stomping around on a stage full of model buildings. There was this one guy- Haruo Nakajima. A legend in the business. Look him up. Twelve Godzilla movies in a row.”  
  
“Well, sure,” Ryuji said, “but did he have a sword?”  
  
~*~  
  
Kana sat in the kitchen, pouting, her chin in her hand, while explosions and laser beams drifted in from the living room, a fitting soundtrack for the battle against her own thoughts.  
  
Damn it. What did he have that she didn’t? ...Besides the obvious.  
  
She had the glasses, she had the dark, curly hair… what, was it just because he was _tall_? If she was going to date Futaba, then she supposed it’d be nice if at least one of them could reach the top of the fridge.  
  
Wait. What was she saying?! This wasn’t a date! This was just-  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Kana looked up. Akira was standing by the fridge, holding a soda. Probably took it off the top shelf, that tall jerk.  
  
Kana exhaled. Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he would just go away.  
  
Or not. Akira opened the fridge and pulled out a second soda, setting it down in front of her. Kana took it with muted thanks.  
  
“Feeling dramatic?” He asked.  
  
Some irrational part of Kana hated that he could make her laugh. But, y’know, here she was, sighing and sitting alone without even turning on the lights. He had a point.  
  
“A little bit,” she smiled, giggling.  
  
“Y’know, Futaba talks about you all the time,” Akira said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”  
  
Kana fidgeted. “...You, too. She told me you were the one, who, um… got her out of her shell.”  
  
Akira waved the thought away. “She did that herself. All I did was hold the door.”  
  
Kana sighed, resting her chin on the table. She idly pressed the cool soda can against her face. Her cheeks were warm.  
  
“...She really, really likes you.”  
  
So, it was going to be _this_ conversation. Akira sighed, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and taking a seat. For a moment, he was struck by how Kana could really be his younger sister. She had his hair, his glasses… the only difference was her eyes, glassy blue compared to his own stormy gray.  
  
“...I’m sorry,” Akira said, eventually, which was never the best way to start a conversation.  
  
“No, _I’m_ sorry!” Kana sniffled. “This is so embarrassing… I’ve known you for less than a day and I’ve already ruined things between us…!”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” Akira said gently.  
  
“Well, it’s not yours!” Kana snapped.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be _anybody’s_ fault,” Akira groaned. “These things happen. But if you want to, we can talk about it. I don’t want you to keep it bottled up if it’s just going to hurt you in the long run.”  
  
Kana stared at him. Just as the silence became uncomfortably long, Kana huffed and propped her chin up on her fist.  
  
“...She said you were nice,” Kana murmured petulantly. “I didn’t know you were _this_ nice.”  
  
“It takes practice,” Akira shrugged. “I’ve tended a lot of flowers. Like, literally. That’s not some creepy euphemism or anything.”  
  
“Don’t make it weird.”  
  
Akira smiled. And, as much as she didn’t want to, Kana still found herself smiling back.  
  
“...So, um…” Kana fidgeted. “...Do you…?”  
  
“Of course I do,” Akira said. “She’s my sister.”  
  
“...Oh.”  
  
“I’ve told her where I stand,” Akira continued, “and we’re still… adjusting. Have you?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Told her.”  
  
Kana looked up, into Akira’s infuriatingly kind eyes. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Eventually, she sighed.  
  
“...What good would it do?” Kana lamented.  
  
“Hey,” Akira said softly. “You never know.”  
  
Kana sniffled. Her eyes were wet, but she was determined not to cry in front of Futaba’s brother on her very first night in Tokyo. Akira handed her a tissue.  
  
“Thanks,” Kana murmured, dabbing at her eyes.  
  
“We’ve got more, if you need ‘em.”  
  
“No, I mean…” Kana met his eyes. “...thanks.”  
  
Akira nodded, and smiled.    
  
No wonder Futaba liked him. He was so kind. So charming. So easy to talk to. It was like he had some kind of, like, supernatural charisma. Of course, that’d be ridiculous.  
  
A moment of comfortable quiet passed between them, in the serenity of understanding. It promptly vanished when Futaba’s other brother, who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘serenity’, came barreling into the kitchen.  
  
“Dude, how long’s it take to get me a soda, huh?” Ryuji said roughly, before noticing Kana at the table, his expression softening. “Oh. Uh. Hey…. is she okay? What were you guys talking about?”  
  
“It’s… er-” Akira hesitated.  
  
“It’s okay,” Kana said, taking a deep breath. “We were just talking about Futaba.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” Ryuji asked, cracking open a soda and taking a sip. “What about her?”  
  
Kana pouted. “...I was talking about how I wished Futaba would look at me the same way she looks at him.”  
  
Ryuji shrugged. “Well, that’s never gonna happen.”  
  
Kana stared at him as if she’d been slapped.  
  
“ _Ryuji!_ ” Akira hissed.  
  
“What?” Ryuji asked. “Duh! Futaba looks up to us, y’know, because we’re older, and wiser, and, well, she’s short. But Kana, you’re her age. You’re a girl, and you’re short- look, the point is, you and Futaba get each other. You can see eye to eye.”  
  
Kana blinked, considering.  
  
“...Huh,” she said. “That’s brilliant.”  
  
“ _Is it?_ ” Akira wondered.  
  
“It is,” Kana smiled bright. “Thanks, bro. Er- can I call you that…?”  
  
Ryuji gasped. “Yes…!” he squeaked.  
  
“I’m gonna tell her,” Kana said, resolute. “Thanks, you guys. Thanks so much!”  
  
Ryuji watched, beaming, as Kana eagerly scurried off. He clutched his chest, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
“...Oh my god, dude, can we _keep_ her?”  
  
Akira rolled his eyes. “Ask Sojiro if he’s still adopting.”  
  
~*~  
  
Kana knew she was going to have to ride this newfound swell of courage as far as it would take her. She marched right into Futaba’s room and got a little too overzealous with the door, slamming it shut behind her and waking Futaba with a start.  
  
Futaba jumped, squeaked, and almost fell out of her computer chair. She scrambled upright, holding her beloved bunny pillow.  
  
“Kana! I’m sorry!” Futaba babbled. “I came back from the bathroom, and you weren’t here, and then I found my bunny, and then I took a nap. But you’re back!”  
  
“Yes, I’m back!” Kana announced, a little louder than necessary. “And I have something really important to say to you!”  
  
Futaba clapped her hands together. “Alright! Hit me! I’m ready!”  
  
Kana lingered in Futaba’s doorway, feeling like a pot of water put on to boil. There was a fine line between excitement and anxiety, and good lord, that was a battle she was losing. She whined, pulling out her phone and typing out a frantic text.  
  
**_Kana_** _: I’m too flustered to do this verbally. Can we talk on Totoro?_  
  
Futaba’s phone chimed. She slipped it out of her pocket, and nodded. They climbed onto Totoro together, a spark fluttering through Kana’s senses when their knees touched.  
  
**_Futaba_** _: what’s up? you look hype as shit, lol_  
  
Kana glanced up, choosing not to comment on the confirmation that when Futaba wrote lol, she did not, in fact, laugh out loud. Kana made a face, typing.  
  
**_Kana_** _: I wanted to apologize._  
  
“For what?” Futaba asked, automatically. Kana whined, nudging her phone. Futaba nodded.  
  
**_Futaba_** _: for what?_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: sorry, that’s not how I wanted to start this…_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: um_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: what I mean is, we’ve known each other a long time, right?_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: …I know we kinda lost contact for a bit in the middle there_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: and that was also my fault_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: sorry…_ _  
_  
Futaba gently tapped her phone against Kana’s. Kana exhaled, flashing Futaba a grateful smile.  
  
**_Kana_** _: I’m sorry, this isn’t how I imagined this would go_ _  
_**_Futaba_** _: how what would go?_ _  
_**_Kana_** _: Futaba, I like you._ _  
_  
Futaba dropped her phone.  
  
“What?” She blinked rapidly. “Kana, what?”  
  
“I don’t know! I-” Kana swallowed. “...I think I just said I-”  
  
“You like me?!” Futaba rolled around, flustered. “What does that mean?!”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘what does that mean’?” Kana squealed. “I...I don’t know! I… Do you like _me_?!”  
  
“Would I have let you co-found the free company if I didn’t?!” Futaba hissed.  
  
“I don’t know if that’s rhetorical or not!” Kana jumped up, stamping her feet. “Futaba, I- I really, really like you!”  
  
“Ahhh!” Futaba flapped her arms. “You said it again!”  
  
“I did!”  
  
“What does that mean?!”  
  
“ _I don’t know!!!_ ”  
  
~*~  
  
“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking: we get Ann what _looks like_ a cake, right? But then you cut it open… and it’s actually full of _smaller_ cakes. What do you think?”  
  
“I think we’re focusing too much on dessert,” Akira said. “Why don’t we take her someplace? There’s this one bookstore-”  
  
“A bookstore.”  
  
“Yeah, a bookstore. Makoto raves about this place.”  
  
“Dude, you’re acting like Ann even reads-”  
  
“ _Ann reads books!_ ”  
  
They both jumped as they heard a bang down the hallway. Kana scurried past them, almost tripping over the threshold.  
  
“I’m so sorry, I have to go…” Kana babbled, pulling on her shoes. “Hi! Bye… It was nice meeting you…!”  
  
Kana ran out the door. The boys jumped to their feet.  
  
“What the fuck?’ Ryuji wondered.  
  
“Is she okay?” Akira asked.  
  
Akira jumped. Futaba was standing behind him in the hall, staring out the door in a daze.  
  
“Futaba! What happened?”  
  
“What?” Futaba blinked. “What… What just happened?!”  
  
“You tell me!”  
  
“Dude!” Ryuji yelled, pointing out the door. “ _Chase her!_ ”  
  
~*~  
  
Kana ran.  
  
She ran until her chest ached, and her lungs burned. She ran until her shoes, laced improperly in her rush to get out the door, chafed against her ankles. She ran until she could no longer hear the worried shouts of Futaba’s family behind her.  
  
She ran, and Futaba followed.  
  
Chasing her love to the train station wasn’t quite the same as running through the airport to stop your love from flying out of your life forever. But on the list of grand romantic gestures, well, it was up there.  
  
Futaba ran down the streets of Yongen-jaya, heedless of whoever might be watching. Her anxiety flared beneath her skin, but she shoved it down- Kana was out there. Kana needed her.  
  
Kana was just ahead. She had stopped to catch her breath, her hands on her knees. Futaba crashed into her from behind, throwing her arms around her waist. They clung to each other, breathless, Kana fighting back tears.  
  
“Wait,” Futaba panted into Kana’s shoulder. “Kana, wait…”  
  
“Let me go,” Kana whispered, helpless.  
  
“You’re here,” Futaba squeezed her. “I want you here. I… I really like you, too.”  
  
Kana shook her head, blinking away hot tears.  
  
“...Don’t do this, ‘taba…” Kana spat. “Don’t settle for me! I know… I know I’m not him.”  
  
“I never wanted you to be,” Futaba breathed.  
  
Kana exhaled. She wriggled around in Futaba’s grip so she was facing the other girl. Hesitantly, she looped her arms around Futaba’s neck.  
  
“Do you really mean that?” Kana whispered.  
  
Futaba nodded fiercely. “Akira helped me through so much. He’s my key item. But you’re my player two, Kana. And I want you with me…” Futaba blushed. “...until we hit 100 percent.”  
  
Kana’s heart felt like it would burst in her chest. She pulled Futaba into a fierce hug, burying her face in Futaba’s neck. The whole world became Futaba’s embrace, her arms, the press of Futaba’s heart against hers, racing in her chest.  
  
It was perfect. And in Futaba’s photographic memory, it would last forever.  
  
At least, until they hit a jolt in the track and Futaba shrieked her surprise into Kana’s ear.  
  
“Holy shit we’re on a _train_!”  
  
Kana clung to Futaba, staring out at the unfamiliar landscape rushing past. “I… I didn’t even notice…! What do we do? Where are we?”  
  
“I- I don’t know!”  
  
“What?! You live here!”  
  
“ _I don’t get out much, okay?!_ ” Futaba squeaked out in her distress. She patted her pockets, fumbling for her phone. “Akira! _Help…!”_  
  
~*~  
  
None of this was happening the way Kana had dreamed it would.  
  
For one thing, she never thought she would have her first kiss on the subway. She didn’t think it would be so bold, so public. And she certainly didn’t think Akira would be there to see it.  
  
Still, there he was, pointedly looking away while he clung to an overhead handhold that Kana couldn't reach, reminding Kana, once again, that she was short. She and Futaba stood, nestled in the crook of his arm. Kana had barely known him for a single evening, but she still felt safe under his gaze.  
  
“I’m sorry I got us lost on the subway,” Kana murmured.  
  
“Tokyo Transit,” Akira shrugged. “Happens to everybody.”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Futaba grinned. “I would follow you to the end of the line.”  
  
Kana kissed her. It was an impulse, and it was… okay, it was awkward, and, not that it was any of Akira’s business, but he thought it was notably lacking in technique. Still, as they parted, their eyes met, and a warm fondness bloomed between them.  
  
“Hey, player one,” Kana cooed.  
  
“Hey, player two,” Futaba purred back.  
  
They hit a jolt in the track. Their foreheads bonked together, and then their glasses bonked together, and then Akira was bracing them against his arm so they wouldn’t fall over, snorting with laughter all the while.  
  
“That was great,” Akira giggled, grinning.  
  
“Shut up! Shut up!” Futaba said. She couldn’t quite reach his head to thump him, so instead she was just angrily patting his back.  
  
Kana smiled warmly. She met Futaba’s eyes, and squeezed her hand.  
  
So what if this wasn’t a romance you’d find in a shoujo manga? So what if this wasn’t a fairy tale?  
  
This wasn’t at all how Kana dreamed it would be.  
  
It was better than that.  
  
It was real.  
  
~*~


End file.
